


I See You And I Know You All Over Again

by DisasterMages



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 20:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17352434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterMages/pseuds/DisasterMages
Summary: "Maybe saying that would’ve been better than saying nothing, or maybe it would’ve been better to just leave the message alone until she actually saw Brigitte in person. Either way that lump still hadn’t eased out of Fareeha’s throat and she’s starting to think it won’t until she knows what Brigitte is going to do."





	I See You And I Know You All Over Again

There’s a lump sitting in Fareeha’s throat as she looks out the plane window, picking at the loose threads from the holes in her jeans while she forces herself not to think. She thought that Brigitte would’ve been angry at her for leaving her hanging for the years she had, but the text she’d gotten out of the blue said otherwise. The text said that Brigitte couldn’t wait to see her, with at least two cat emojis and two exclamation points. Fareeha trusted her mother’s letter more than she’d trusted herself to answer that text.

What would she even say? What could even make any of that better? Fareeha couldn’t even answer the text and she was supposed to find something to say with in the next few hours before she landed. 

Swallowing thickly, Fareeha unlocks her phone and types a message, holding her breath as she tells Brigitte they have a lot to catch up on and hits send before she can stop herself. Her message is simpler than Brigitte’s, she doesn’t bother with emojis, she barely manages to punctuate it before she turns her phone off and shoves it back in the pocket of her jacket.

Maybe saying that would’ve been better than saying nothing, or maybe it would’ve been better to just leave the message alone until she actually saw Brigitte in person. Either way that lump still hadn’t eased out of Fareeha’s throat and she’s starting to think it won’t until she knows what Brigitte is going to do. 

The rest of the flight is a blur, Fareeha had tried her best to sleep through most of it, but she’d failed, her leg bouncing up and down the whole time and earning her glares from the person sitting next to her. Maybe Brigitte wouldn’t be angry, maybe she wouldn’t care, maybe she’d even be happy to see her and trap her into one of those bone crushing hugs she used to give Fareeha when they were kids.

That would’ve been the best option, but as they land and Fareeha gets the chance to look down at the landing strip, she’s a lot less hopeful. She’d clammed up when her mother disappeared, stopped answering texts and letters and emails, not just Brigitte’s, but everybody’s, she hadn’t meant to drop the world like that, but it had happened, and now the world is waiting for her out in the crowd. Fareeha can already feel word vomit building up.

She shouldn’t make up excuses, she knows that much, but what if Brigitte asks? What if she wants to know why Fareeha had just forgotten about her for all those years. Maybe it’s not just word vomit that’s building up now. Fareeha stops to rest her forehead against a pillar, her eyes closed and her grip on her suitcase tight enough to break it if she really really wanted to.

She doesn’t see Brigitte sneaking up behind her and she doesn’t get the chance to cover her mouth and muffle the shout that comes out when Brigitte snatches her up in a hug and laughs.

It’s not the bear hug that Fareeha remembers once Brigitte sets her down, Brigitte isn’t even the Brigitte Fareeha remembers when Fareeha gets to turn around. Brigitte’s arms are toned and well muscled now and Fareeha has to look at her for a few seconds before she joins in on the laughing, pushing her hair out of her face. “Still getting sick from flying, huh? Thought you would’ve grown out of that.” The smile on Brigitte’s face is what Fareeha remembers the most, big and wide enough to stretch out her freckles.

“I don’t get sick from flying, but I do get sick when a cat lady picks me up and spins me around.” Right then, it’s easy for Fareeha to roll her eyes and give Brigitte a hug back, her arm lingering over Brigitte’s broad shoulders. When they were younger, Fareeha had been taller, but now Brigitte was a full head and a half taller than she was. Standing in front of her, Fareeha almost forgets all the anxiety she’d built up on the flight over, her own smile spreading across her face. “It’s good to see you Brigitte.”

Fareeha’s telling the truth when she says that, her legs not wanting to work underneath her as she stares at Brigitte’s smile, but Brigitte doesn’t seem to have the same problem. She slings her arm over Fareeha’s shoulders and takes the handle of Fareeha’s suitcase in her other hand, leading her towards the exit. Fareeha had expected something colder, something meaner, it’s what she deserved after years of radio silence, but Brigitte is talking nonstop about her cats instead, laughing hard enough that she nearly swerves the car into the other lane when Fareeha brings up the jetpack incident.

Brigitte gets quieter after that. Her smile drops away into something smaller and her hands grip the wheel tightly, her eyes only looking over to Fareeha occasionally instead of looking at her straight away like she had before. Part of her is nagging that something was wrong, that she might’ve done something wrong or said something wrong, but another part is telling her that she hadn’t seen Brigitte drive before, that same part in Fareeha keeps hoping that Brigitte is just a careful driver and nothing else.

Fareeha lets herself believe the hopeful part of her, easing into a quiet that gets them through dinner before Brigitte disappears into her workshop without a word and without warning, leaving Fareeha wondering where she’s gone until she finds the door cracked open, light and sounds of welding pouring out of it. Brigitte doesn’t turn around when Fareeha comes in, her back is turned and her shoulders are slouched, the protective mask keeping Fareeha from seeing the expression on Brigitte’s face. 

Carefully, quietly the first time, Fareeha calls Brigitte’s name, stepping closer to her to put her hand on her shoulder when she calls her name again. The way Brigitte jumps makes Fareeha pull back, holding her hand behind her back as if she’d done something wrong with it. “Are you alright?” Fareeha asks, not allowing herself to back away from where she’s standing as Brigitte lifts the mask off her face, setting it down on the table and leaning forwards onto the table.

There’s something different in Brigitte’s eyes when she looks back at Fareeha now, something hurt and something Fareeha had expected when she comes to lean against Brigitte’s table, her hands clasped together to keep them from misbehaving at all. “You didn’t have to disappear.” Brigitte says it plainly, staring right at Fareeha’s hands and frowning. It would’ve been better if Brigitte had been angry when she’d said it, Fareeha could defend against that, she could argue, she’d learned that much from her mother before she’d disappeared. But hurt wasn’t something she could argue with, and Fareeha looks away, pushing her hair out of her face again. “I get it, but I would’ve helped, we were friends.”

There’s bitterness edging on Brigitte’s voice now, but instead of making Fareeha’s blood boil like it usually does, all it does is make her wince, her mouth opening but closing again. “I know.” Is the only thing that Fareeha can manage to get out. Brigitte finally looks away from her hands, but Fareeha follows her eyes, looking right at a picture of the two of them together on Brigitte’s workbench, their cheeks pressed together and something lighting up their eyes as they’d looked at the camera. 

“It wasn’t just you, it was everyone, Angela, and Tracer, even Jesse.” It’s not much of a defense, but Fareeha tries, her tongue feeling as though it’s coated in foul tasting medicine.

“Good to know I count along with everyone else.” Brigitte says, her frown deepening as she stands up and Fareeha just barely manages to catch Brigitte’s wrist to stop her.

“I’m sorry, Brigitte, I didn’t know how else to deal with it.” Brigitte always had a way of bringing out the honest parts of Fareeha and right then, she thinks she sees a little of the tension seep out of Brigitte’s shoulders, but that could’ve been exhaustion too. Brigitte isn’t trying to leave anymore though, she’s still not looking at Fareeha, suddenly looking as though she were going through Fareeha disappearing all over again. 

What would she say when she was finished thinking about all of it? Would she tell Fareeha to get out of her apartment? Would she tell her that she couldn’t make up for it? Would she tell her that she’d waited too long to apologize for any of it? Fareeha’s about to say her name again when Brigitte wraps her arms around her bone crushingly tight, her forehead pressed into Fareeha’s shoulder as her own shoulders shake, her breathing coming out in quiet whimpers.

“Don’t disappear again.” Brigitte says, her grip still tight when Fareeha hugs her back, her cheek squished against Brigitte’s head as wetness seeps into Fareeha’s shirt.

“I won’t.”

“Promise me that you won’t, Fareeha.”

“I promise, Brigitte, I promise.”


End file.
